Marie Pascal calculated that the candles would burn for not more than an hour—an hour and a half at most. The unfortunate girl now began to undergo the agony of waiting for her approaching end. It seemed to her that the candles had been piously lighted for some death watch. When the wax had melted near the first nails, she closed her eyes and a deep sigh of horror escaped from her lips.
"Pity! Pity!"
Suddenly, Jerome Fandor burst into the chamber, anxious to tell his friend Juve about the objects he had found in Marie Pascal's room. Scarcely had he opened the door than he started back in amazement, white as a sheet. Ah! the horrible spectacle of the young girl lying motionless, as though dead, she, who in spite of everything, he still found charming. Then realizing the situation, he sprang forward, put out the candles and removed the revolver.
"Saved! You are saved!"
With infinite precautions he untied the ropes and placed Marie's head upon some cushions. She opened her eyes slowly and murmured:
"Where am I? Help! Fantômas!"
Fandor endeavored to reassure her.
"Don't be frightened! Fantômas isn't here; you are saved.... It is I ... Jerome Fandor."
Marie Pascal was seated in an armchair, still very pale, but with courage regained.